


The Pretty Man

by BradyGirl_12



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), DCU, DCU (Movies), Smallville
Genre: Angst, Collection: BradyGirl_12 Fic Prompt/Request Fills, Drama, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Male Slash, Prompt Fic, Slash, World's Finest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BradyGirl_12/pseuds/BradyGirl_12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pain can be lessened by a smile or gentle touch.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pretty Man

**Author's Note:**

> Original LJ Date Of Completion: October 6, 2009  
> Original LJ Date Of Posting: October 8, 2009  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.  
> Original LJ Word Count: 629  
> Feedback welcome and appreciated.  
> Written for my [LJ Third Anniversary Fic Request Meme](http://bradygirl-12.livejournal.com/484471.html) for CarolandTom. Pairing: SV Clark/Bruce. Prompt: Lonely (hurt/comfort). :)

He was lonely.

There were many things he didn’t know or remember. He didn’t know why he hurt so much, why his hands were so stiff or his legs so weak, or why he woke up screaming from nightmares he didn’t remember.

His room was nice, his bed comfortable, a brightly-colored quilt on top, red-yellow-and-blue. The birds sang outside his window that looked out at the big maple tree, and he liked the robins best. They were bright and cheerful, always hopping around on the grass, especially after it had been mowed.

He liked the smell of freshly-mown grass.

He was tired, so tired, all the time, but wanted to sit here in his rocking chair by the window in the sunlight. He always felt better in the sunlight.

He never spoke. His throat felt rusty. No, better to sit quietly, rocking back-and-forth, rocking peacefully.

The nurses and doctors were nice but could never stay long.

Visitors would come but he only stared, unable to remember them, guilty as he saw their sad eyes, so he simply retreated, the pain a dull ache, constant but not so bad some days.

They were all so sad: the woman with the short, blond hair and constant chatter, her earrings swinging as her head moved; the red-haired woman and the blond man with kind eyes, who always brought food that smelled and tasted so good; the woman with long, dark hair and constant movement, the blond man who always wore pretty green, and the bald man with the soft voice.

All with sad eyes.

He gazed out the window, then straightened up in his rocking chair, his left hand curling and un-curling his stiff fingers.

Maybe not so lonely anymore.

& & & & & &

The man was beautiful, dark hair pretty, his shirts and sweaters always soft, his hands always warm when they held his hands.

His eyes were so pretty, so dark-brown, and they were sad, too.

Sometimes he came with a younger man who had dark hair and bright blue eyes, whose smile was like sunlight, and sometimes he came alone.

Today he was alone.

The pretty man would talk only some of the time, but he couldn’t understand him, anyway, though once he had heard the words, “All three forms of Kryptonite mixed together…recipe for disaster…hurt him…played havoc with his physiology and memory…and what happened to him when he was missing…the nightmares…”

The pretty man would talk to the doctor, and he would always be sad, but he would smile after the doctor left, be so gentle and kind and even help him into the other chair and wheel him out into the fresh air.

& & & & & &

The pretty man came into the room and spoke his name. He kissed him gently on the temple and spoke words that he couldn’t understand, but the pretty man wheeled him outside to feel the sun warm on his face and the breeze cool on his skin. The pain was never quite as bad when the pretty man was here. The pretty man sat against the trunk of the tree, and his eyes were so beautiful as he spoke words that he couldn’t understand, but he loved the velvety sound of his voice. The pretty man picked up a golden leaf and tucked it behind his ear, pressing it gently against his skin as he kissed the top of his head.

The pretty man wheeled him back to his room, helped him back into the rocking chair by the window, kissed him on the temple again, and walked out of the room and down the walk outside with the robins flying around.

He was lonely again until the next time the pretty man came to visit.


End file.
